


santa claus is back in town

by starcat



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Christmas Smut, Dirty Talk, EDDIE IS oblivious ok, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Gay Disaster Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, I'm going to hell I sincerely apologise to all mall santas for being an asshole in this, LITERALLY LMAO, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Riding, Verbal Humiliation, a little bit of uhh, eddie hates santa, eddie is a bit of a dick, i am so sorry santa, it just christmas smut, listen to it thanks, no angst surprisingly wow am i feeling ok?? no im not, richie tozier loves christmas, the title is an elvis song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcat/pseuds/starcat
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is not a Christmas person. Richie Tozier, however, very much is.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 106





	santa claus is back in town

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a Christmas person, but this is my gift to you guys whether you like it or not. Bonus points to everyone who can pick up on the horrible Christmas song references I shamelessly made in this.  
> Merry Fucking Christmas, Losers.

Eddie Kaspbrak was not a Christmas person.

Everything about the holiday season stressed him out. The same constant songs on repeat, the garish decorations on every surface known to man, the increased hustle and bustle of people with obviously _very_ poor time management skills trying to get everything together at the last moment. Not only did the entire population seem to be wanting to be in every shop all at once, but the roads were _completely fucked_ , meaning it was pretty much impossible for anyone to get anywhere in a timely manner. Eddie hated tinsel, he hated Christmas lights, he hated _Silent Night_ , he hated Christmas movies, and he fucking _hated_ Santa.

Santa Claus, as far as he was concerned, was the absolute bane of his existence. He was a symbol of consumerist culture and blatantly perpetuated and encouraged _unhealthy life choices_. Every time Eddie had the misfortune of having to duck out into the store during Christmas season (because God knew Richie couldn’t follow a fucking shopping list for the life of him, even when everything on said list was organised in categorical order and isle number), he would come across some random stranger ( _how was that even legal?_ ) dressed as a man glorifying obesity and capitalism getting some kid to sit on his lap. He had considered that maybe his aversion to Santa was due to the fact that he hadn’t really had that Big Red Myth threatening to break into his house during the early hours of the morning during his childhood. His mother hadn’t really been the type to bother with that façade, instead reiterating to Eddie the dangers of strangers, and what to do if someone did actually break into their house during Christmas Eve -- ‘ _Eddiebear, because realistically they would most likely not be breaking in for the sole purpose of leaving presents under the tree and stealing a glass of milk and cookies’._ However, even if his hatred of Santa Claus did stem from his lack of experience with the man, the myth, the legend, he felt as if this hatred was completely justified. After all, why would he be okay with a man who was the epitome of a red flag?

Richie, on the other hand, was a _very_ festive person. To the point where it was actually nauseating. He was the kind of person who started playing Christmas music and putting up decorations as soon as it hit December the first; the sort of person who watched every single Christmas movie known to man, without fail, every single year. Eddie was sure if he heard another repeat of _All I Want For Christmas_ or _Jingle Bells_ , he was going to fucking snap and commit a murder-suicide. It was their first Christmas together as an official ‘thing’, and Eddie was really starting to have second thoughts about this whole being in love with Richie Tozier situation. Seriously, how many Christmas themed t-shirts and sweaters could one man own? Not to mention, where had they even come from? Eddie had no recollection of seeing them while doing the laundry, so that meant Richie had just stored a whole shitload of Christmas apparel _somewhere_ for an entire year without Eddie knowing. An actual enigma, considering Eddie had cleaned their apartment from top to fucking bottom and was sure he had gotten into every nook and cranny, so _how_ had he possibly missed that many clothing items? He would have at least appreciated being able to wash them before Richie wore them, knowing full well that they were all probably extremely dusty, and Richie was not the type of guy to remember to do a good wash of his clothes before packing them away in dust proof bags for another year. He even had Christmas themed pyjamas, complete with Kermit the frog in a Christmas hat across the chest. He had bought Eddie some pyjamas too; they had _‘grumpy elf’_ on the long sleeve top, and Eddie had forced Richie to sleep on the sofa that night. Surprisingly, he hadn’t thrown them away. Despite his hatred for Christmas and all that came along with it, Richie had still gone out of his way to buy Eddie some pyjamas to wear in an attempt to rope him in to his enthusiasm; so he did end up wearing them a couple of times, here and there.

With Christmas, of course, came the stresses of the year coming to an end. Eddie was completely strung out with work, having to finish a whole collection of projects within the span of a week. He had had to take some of his work home with him, and it was unsurprisingly hard to concentrate when Richie was re-running the Grinch (‘ _Hey, Eds, I had no idea they made a movie about you_!’) or playing the Michel Bublé Christmas album for the fifteenth fucking time. The amount of times he had ended up rewriting lyrics to _It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas_ rather than statistics and analyses was just downright embarrassing. It was only a matter of time he submitted an official document with the words _white Christmas_ somewhere within it. He could only imagine how he was going to have to explain that to corporate, or the billion-dollar industries he was working with. _Hey, sorry about that. My boyfriend is channelling the spirit of Frosty the Snowman right now, and our usually modern-chic apartment looks like an elderly lady’s Scottish Terrier threw up every toy it has ever eaten across our décor. I’m a little distracted._

Despite his obvious annoyances and aversions, he wasn’t about to tell Richie to quit it or cut it out. As annoying as it could be, he did get a whole lot of joy seeing how excited and happy Richie was about the holiday season. How proud he was when he had put up all the decorations, pulled out an old, dusty box with a Christmas tree that could definitely be older than the both of them and spent the entire night putting on all the baubles and ornaments _just right_ , draping the Christmas lights along the branches and topping it with a tacky-ass golden star as Eddie wore his cursed _‘grumpy elf’_ pyjamas and curled up on the sofa with a hot mug of peppermint tea Richie had made for him. He loved Richie, and with that in consideration, he loved when Richie was at his happiest; bouncing around and chattering incessantly to him about how _Die Hard is definitely a Christmas movie, dude, just watch it. I know you’ve seen it – just watch it again with me._ He would do the decorations, and the shitty pyjamas, and the horrible music, and the tacky Hallmark movies, but he would not _do Santa_. No, he was not going to go to the mall to take pictures with the Santa there (did Richie have any idea how long those lines were?), and he was not going to go to a Christmas themed party dressed as sexy Rudolph, or god forbid, Mrs Claus. It was humiliating for him to even consider, even if Richie had pleaded with him to _please_ go to the party in costume, because it would be so _funny_ , and the party had all of his associates and connections in the comedy world so _funny was the point_. Eddie had told him to go fuck himself, and they ended up wearing matching tailored suits instead (he had worn a red tie, and Richie had worn the green coupled with a little Rudolph pin with a flashing red nose).

Richie and Eddie’s constant networking for work and with friends (see: the Losers) meant that they were seemingly attending events nearly every weekend. Richie had to keep up appearances, Eddie needed to strengthen connections, and the Losers were intent on spending at least one weekend away to get smashed and celebrate the end of another year without… well. _Yeah_. Seeing everyone was nice, and Eddie liked attending events, especially with Richie. But it left little time for the two of them to be together, alone, without having to worry about other life things. Eddie had been working hard to ensure that he would be completely free of all work for the 25th through to the 28th, adamant on spending a few days just with Richie without any distractions. Sure, it meant working overtime and stressing himself out more than he already was, but he knew it would be worth it if it meant getting to finally spend some quality time with the man he was dreadfully in love with. Richie had a much more flexible schedule, but still made sure to clear out those days as well, excited to be able to spend a day with his lover without talk of statistical analysis or public relations. Thankfully, but also very stressfully, Christmas drew closer faster than either of them realised. By the time the 25th arrived, Eddie had successfully submitted all of his open projects and taken his few days leave. He was absolutely exhausted, having worked himself to the complete bone over the year. He was, for all intents and purposes, probably a little bit of a workaholic. And a bona-fide stress-head. Richie made sure to point that out and remind him of those things as often as he humanly could.

Christmas day wasn’t all that bad. Spending the day with Richie was the best part. He had gifted him some genuinely great presents, and Eddie had made a really amazing lunch that he had been really fucking proud of. He didn’t mind the Bublé, the scratchy tinsel, the mistletoe. He didn’t even mind when Richie made him wear reindeer ears and a red nose so he could take a picture of the both of them -- which he promptly posted across every discernible social platform he could (the fucker). Richie had been in a sky-high mood the entire day, and it was contagious. Eddie even admittedly danced with him to that goddamn _All I Want For Christmas_ song, and did a shitty karaoke version of _Baby It’s Cold Outside_. He agreed to watch Die Hard (again), and all in all, the day was a good one. They ended up eating a light dinner, still full from lunch that afternoon, and as the evening drew and night fell, Eddie was more than keen in the idea of getting it _on_. The stress had really effected his drive, and he was starting to feel it now – usually he and Richie went at it like middle-aged rabbits; their sex life was extremely vibrant and intense, however he hadn’t really been in the mood often with so many deadlines hanging over his head. Now free of them, he was keen to get back into the rhythm of it.

“You know,” Eddie mused as he scrubbed at a plate, Richie’s arms wound snugly around his waist while he nuzzled his face against his neck and shoulder. “Maybe I’ll wear the _Grumpy Elf_ pyjamas tonight. I’m kinda feeling it. I think it’s like… by proxy, or something. Christmas Stockholm. Your enthusiasm is really contagious, Rich. Have you heard of _the mere exposure effect_?” He mused aloud. Richie let out a soft, rumbling laugh against his skin, his arms tightening as he peeked over his shoulder to watch him clean.  
“Really? Wow, you must be in a good mood. Maybe I’ll upgrade you from _Grumpy Elf_ to _Asshole_ _Elf._ ” He pressed a kiss to Eddie’s neck, and Eddie hummed, placing the plate into the drying rack and wiping his hands down with a paper towel.  
“ _Asshole elf_? What does that make you? _Incompetent Elf? Man-child elf?_ Oh, what about _Sweat Elf_?” Eddie teased, turning around so he could face Richie properly, winding his arms around his neck. He was so handsome, especially with that genuine, sated smile on his face that reached all the way to his eyes. He looked happy. Deeply so. The sort of happy he hadn’t seemed to experience much before Derry V2. The bags under his eyes definitely had smoothed over, and he looked a lot less gaunt than he had when they had first met at the Jade Orient after all those years. Richie looked good – he looked like he was finally on his way to being okay, and Eddie was more than okay with that.

“Hmm, you definitely are an _Asshole Elf_. Damn, I got you the wrong pair of pjs.” Richie smiled dopily, tilting Eddie’s chin up for a lazy, shallow kiss that still somehow took Eddie’s breath away. He slipped a hand behind his neck, tangling his fingers into the dark curls at the base of his hairline and pushing up a little onto his toes. Richie let out a happy sound, pulling Eddie in closer and allowing him to deepen the kiss somewhat. Eddie knew what he wanted, and Richie seemed to be quite on board, his hands moving to the small of his back and to grope at his ass through his _good pair of jeans_. Eddie sighed, a shiver running through him and his hair standing on end at the contact, nipping at Richie’s bottom lip and earning a low chuckle. Lips parted, and Eddie could finally properly _taste_ Richie, his own tongue exploring his mouth; his teeth, his lips, his tongue. He sucked and nipped at his mouth, knowing full well he was getting pretty ahead of himself but _it had been a little while to be fair_ , and he had been horny since Richie had pulled him half-onto his lap as they watched the second movie for the day ( _Elf,_ which was just as unfunny as the first four times he had seen it). He felt Richie’s large hands on his body, squeezing and kneading and exploring, his fingertips hot on his skin and making Eddie prickle all over, pulling himself desperately closer as his breaths hitched into Richie’s mouth. He felt Richie’s hands push up his shirt a little, teasing over the waistband of his pants and making Eddie twitch in his jeans. He was completely fine with doing it here, in the kitchen (he would clean afterwards, of course, he wasn’t a fucking animal), if it meant getting it done _now_. If they started early enough, maybe they could even go twice in one night. _Merry Fucking Christmas to him_.

  
“Hold up.”

  
Eddie had been reaching for Richie’s shirt when he froze at those words, taking a few moments to fully realise what exactly Richie was saying to him. He blinked, obviously confused, and Richie just grinned down at him, placing a hand on his wrist and pushing his hand away from his clothing.  
“Hold up, _Asshole Elf_. I have something planned for this.” He said, and Eddie pulled a face, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.  
“It better be fucking good. I swear to God – you couldn’t have gotten this prepared _before_? This is a total mood killer.” He scowled, and Richie laughed; a deep chested laugh, that always made Eddie’s heart flutter as he gently tweaked his nose and cheek with his thumb and forefinger.  
“It’s worth it. Trust me.” He winked, before he sauntered off casually into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.  
“Fucking asshole.” Eddie muttered in a red-cheeked huff, unplugging the sink and taking off his apron as he went to go wait on the sofa. He had no idea what to expect – with Richie, it could be absolutely anything. He was a little excited, he had to admit, alongside being blatantly pissed that he was being forced to wait when he wanted it _now_. But if Richie said it was worth it, he was trusting that it was. After all, it could definitely be something _fun_ , like a new toy. Maybe it was a new game they could play, or something kinky Richie had seen online and decided he wanted to replicate with Eddie. He was literally on the edge of his seat, squeezing his thighs together to try and relieve the aching in his abdomen somewhat. He ended up unzipping his jeans, which helped a little more. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and Eddie felt his frustration only building as he waited, and waited, and _waited_.  
“Richie, stop _fucking_ with me. I swear to god, if this is a fucking joke I will not let you touch me for like, a week. I’m so serious right now.” He called out, crossing his arms over his chest and gritting his teeth tightly.  
“Just—I’m done! Hold on, you’re so fucking impatient, Jesus.” Richie called back, unlocking the door and swinging it open. Eddie turned on the sofa. Finally, finally, _finally_ , they could actually do something fun. Oh, he was so ready to just _take his cock so deep he could fucking—_

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Richie blinked at Eddie, genuine confusion in his eyes as he stood there, hands on his hips.

“I… I am _not_ letting you fuck me wearing that. Don’t even fucking _touch_ me.” Eddie stood, fully facing Richie, his arms crossed over his chest. Richie had gotten himself into some red briefs with white trim, coupled with a matching long red _Santa_ jacket with the same garish white fluff along the hem and the cuffs. He was even wearing the fucking _hat_ and Eddie wanted to fucking die. He was this close to just throwing himself out of the fucking window in that instant. Not only was Richie in a _sexy santa_ get up, it also just… looked stupid. Richie wasn’t muscular by any means. He was all weird proportions, broad shoulders, long arms, a little pooch to his stomach and softness to his hips. He looked _ridiculous_ , and Eddie felt like crying or laughing or both, all at once.

“What? Why not? Bro, it’s Christmas! I thought it would be like… kinky.”

“Kinky? What part of you wearing… _that_ is kinky? Richie, I fucking— _Santa_? He’s a glorified home invader! What part of that is sexy to you? Oh my god, and you got me the fucking—elf pyjamas. Santa fucking one of his elves? That is so fucked up, Richie, that’s just a blatant bastardisation of the Christmas lore. I—please take it off. Please.”

“No. I don’t want to. I think it’s cool and funny.” Richie put his hands on his hips stubbornly, and Eddie closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“Please, for the love of all things good in the world. Take it off. I can almost forget about it. We can move on from this. Please.”

“No.”

“Richie, I am not letting you—”

“Please, Eds! _Please_.”

Eddie inhaled deeply, looking at Richie with a look that was almost _forlorn_. Was he really going to do this? He hated Santa with such a fucking pure, burning rage. Was he going to really let Richie stick his cock in him while wearing a red and white sexy Santa outfit that made him look like a mall Santa with a crack habit?

Apparently, yes. Apparently, Eddie was desperate and had no limits to how low he could go and had absolutely no self-respect.

“Okay.” He sighed, deflating, and Richie downright _cheered_ , sauntering over to Eddie. He sat down on the sofa, patting his lap, and _oh my god, why was he doing this_? _He wanted the Earth to just swallow him up and take him now, please, Satan, take him—_

“Don’t worry, babe. You’ll be my _Ho Ho Ho_ tonight.” Richie purred, and if he had said anything else, it could’ve been sexy. But Eddie instead felt physical pain, and he lightly slapped his chest in indignation. “It’ll be a _white Christmas_ for sure—”  
“I’m going to walk out that fucking door right now if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Eddie snapped, and Richie just grinned, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s waist and pulling him downwards into him. Richie’s lips met his once more, and Eddie’s thoughts about the Santa outfit only managed to linger as the kiss pretty much instantly divulged into something absolutely filthy, Richie’s kisses domineering and sloppy. Eddie all but melted for him, his once dwindling boner resurrecting full force against his jeans as Richie sucked and bit at his lips. Eddie’s breathing hitched once more, and he tried not to think about the fucking Santa outfit – _keep your eyes closed, don’t look, oh God, you are an absolute embarrassment to yourself_ – though Richie seemed pretty adamant on making sure Eddie was fully there for this entire process. Santa costume or not, he was in the _mood_ , and Eddie would have to just try and create a cognitive barrier between what Richie was wearing and… well. _Mall Santas._ He was genuinely struggling until he felt Richie grind up into his ass, to which a lot of coherent thought seemed to melt out of his ears. Typical. Eddie let out a soft gasp and groan, hips automatically moving downwards in response to Richie’s movements, feeling the outline of his cock through the jeans and thin red fabric of the outfit. Richie was big, Eddie knew from a lot of experience, and that thin polyester material definitely didn’t have its reservations in depicting that.  
“Ah, fuck.” Richie sighed in pleasure, his breath hot against Eddie’s cheeks as he pulled away from the kiss to focus more on his neck, his hands moving down to grope at Eddie’s ass through his jeans. To which, he seemed to actually notice that Eddie was still fully clothed. This earned him a perturbed grumble, and Richie’s hands moved up to hastily open the buttons of Eddie’s shirt. He didn’t bother removing it, rather letting it hang open to expose his chest while he moved down to the offending garment preventing him from grabbing handfuls of _that ass_. Richie pushed down Eddie’s jeans stubbornly, which was a feat in itself, considering Eddie was wearing Levi’s and they were form fitting _and—_ he ended up having to awkwardly get up to push them down and discard them, which in turn earned him another mortifying look at Richie in his full Santa inspired get up. He tried not to let it get to him, _really. It was just red. Nothing weird about this, nothing weird at all. Nope. Richie just happened to always dress like a homeless christmas-themed... that. Oh god. Jesus._

Richie once again patted his lap, raising his brows at Eddie and Eddie muttered a hushed ‘fuck off’. He rolled his eyes, settling down onto Richie’s lap. Richie grabbed his hips instantly, forcing Eddie downwards against his cock abruptly. 

“Fuck—!” Eddie groaned, pleasure shooting up his spine as Richie’s cock pressed against his entrance. He was already fully hard, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was partially to do with the whole Santa thing. God, he hoped not. _He was never going to do this again. Nope._ His thoughts once again left him as Richie continued to grind his hips against him, his mouth once more returning to Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed, and he rocked his hips downwards in time with the thrusts as Richie began to bite and nip and suck. Fuck, that was good. Eddie let out a fluttery sigh, tilting his head to expose his neck some more for Richie, his thighs tensing around him in his lap. Richie’s hand finally managed to find their grip on Eddie’s ass, slipping into his underwear and crudely grabbing onto each cheek roughly, forcing them apart as he groped him. Richie loved Eddie’s ass, and he always made sure to make that abundantly clear.

“You gonna ride me, babe?” Richie breathed huskily against the shell of Eddie’s ear, and he bit his lip as he nodded, pushing back against the stimulation. Richie’s fingers brushed against his entrance, and Eddie shuddered as Richie bit a particularly rough hickey into his neck and started to suck until it was no doubt a deep, dark purple. “Yeah, you’re gonna ride me. Like a good boy, huh? Gonna take me over and over. Can’t wait to finally be deep inside your cute, tight ass—“ 

Eddie groaned louder now, pushing himself downwards a little rougher, his cock straining against his briefs as Richie teased his hole with his fingers, dry-fucking him in a way that left his mouth dry. “Fuck, Eds. You’re such a fucking— hoe, look at you. Fuck,” Richie move a hand from his ass, smoothing it up his chest and loosely wrapping it around his neck, to which Eddie absolutely keened. 

“Say that again,” Eddie exhaled, his voice high and airy, his gaze focusing in on Richie’s face. _Oh, he was so handsome, so handsome, and red complimented him so nicely—_

“Hoe,” Richie smirked, punctuating his words with thrusts of his hips. “Hoe, hoe, hoe—“

“Richie— fuck—" Eddie whined, feeling his cock throb and twitch. It had been too long, fuck, he hadn’t gotten fucked for weeks now—

“That’s it. Good boy, sitting in my lap. You wanna take it, huh? You’ve been such a good boy for me, all _year_.” 

Eddie groaned, his brows furrowing as he nodded, his breaths escaping him in heavy pants. He pushed down his briefs hastily, enough so that he could feel Richie better. Fuck, he needed him. He needed him bad. 

“Please, please— I wanna take it. I wanna ride you, please—" 

“Oh, you’re gonna ride my cock tonight, alright—" Richie growled, reaching over to the coffee table and opening up a little drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lubricant, lathering his fingers in it. Eddie keened, grabbing Richie’s hand desperately and guiding it between his legs. Richie purred, two fingers teasing his hole. He knew he liked the stretch of two fingers, the pain, having to adjust. Richie just knew him so well. He loved him, god he loved him so much. 

“What do you want, baby?” Richie panted against his ear, and Eddie whined, his brain fogged over with the amount of pleasure coursing through his body like a fucking drug. He was high, his body on cloud nine as he rocked his hips downwards, his cock bouncing ever so slightly with the movements. 

“You,” he managed, pouting just that little bit that drove Richie crazy. 

“All you want is...?” 

“You. All I want... is you— fuck!” Eddie cried out as two fingers pushed inside of him suddenly, the stretch making his thighs quiver and his legs threaten to give out, his eyes fluttering closed. Richie’s fingers always felt so good — _they were so big, they stretched him out so good, oh fuck, oh fuck—_

Richie grabbed Eddie’s hip, the other securing around his neck and cutting off Eddie’s breathing just a little, just enough to make things that little bit better. His back arched, his hips rocking downwards as he tried desperately to adjust, to get more, more. He wanted more, _more—_

Richie didn’t seem to want to waste time with formalities, pushing another finger inside as soon as Eddie gave the go ahead, earning another loud moan from his smaller counterpart. Eddie’s hair was matting to his forehead with sweat, his body hot and full of what felt to be electricity as he rode Richie’s fingers. He stretched himself as much as he could on them, trying to get to that one spot. That one spot Richie knew all too well.

“Pretty boy. Good boy.” Richie’s praises went right to Eddie’s cock, precum dribbling from his tip and oh fuck he wasn’t going to last long. Not like this.

“Please— fuck. Please let me ride you. Fuck, I want it so bad, Rich. I’m so— I need you so bad. I need you, please— I want your thick fucking cock in me, babe, I’ve been so good—"

“Oh, I know. I’ve made sure to check that you have been. Twice.” Richie growled, pulling his fingers out of Eddie and wiping them on the sofa beside him. Eddie was too high on pleasure to even care all that much, instead lifting his hips up so that he could line Richie up with his entrance. He teased his hole a little, his thighs quivering and Richie watching intently, his big hands securely on his hips to help steady him. He slowly sat down until his head was past the ring of muscle, before he took him all in all at once. Eddie threw his head back slightly and let out a deep groan, his lips parted and mouth hanging open as he took a moment to adjust to the full size of Richie inside of him. Fuck, his cock was so good. It stretched him and filled him just fucking right, satisfied him like nothing else ever managed to. No toys or dildos managed to make him feel as good as Richie did; made his head spin as his body clenched around him, taking in as much of him as he could. 

“Fuck, fuck— yeah, fuck yeah. You’re a real good lil’ baby, fuck— pretty baby, so pretty—" Richie babbled, and Eddie dug his nails into his shoulders and arms deep, deep enough to no doubt leave crescent moons behind. Eddie was gulping for air, his chest burning as he slowly began to lift his hips. He circled his hips and bounced a little, thighs burning, little moans slipping past his lips as he began to fuck himself on Richie’s cock. 

“Yes, yes— _fuck yes_ —" Eddie panted, head lolling to the side as he set a proper pace, tilting his hips until he felt Richie press up against his prostate. “Yes— yes—! _Fuck, yeah— Richie, Richie_ —!” His voice raised in volume and pitch, Richie’s hands moving back down to his ass and spreading him again, roughly groping his cheeks, slapping them and earning him a lewd moan as Eddie began to positively bounce on his cock, every press into his prostate making him gasp and moan and keen for his lover. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither was Richie, who was babbling and rambling about something or other as he met each one of Eddie’s movements with a thrust of his own. 

“Do you see what I see? Fuck, look. I fill you up so good, baby. So, so good.”

“I’m close—" Eddie whined, and Richie wrapped a hand around his cock, beginning to squeeze and stroke. Eddie’s legs felt weak, wobbling as they threatened to give out beneath him. Thank god he was physically fit, otherwise he wouldn’t have lasted anywhere near this long. 

“Come for me, baby.” Richie didn’t need to tell him twice. Not when a particular thrust of his hips met with a particular downwards motion and rough squeeze pushed Eddie over the edge and into orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure hit him, his vision going white with a dizzying high as he felt Richie spill into him not long after. He rode out his orgasm until he was completely and utterly spent, his entire body oversensitive as he all but collapsed atop of Richie, panting. 

“Merry Christmas. Kwanzaa. Happy Hanukkah.” 

Eddie blinked, lifting his head and looking at Richie with clear confusion. Richie could only grin at him, clearly just as spent as he was, Christmas hat askew on his head. He reached up to fix it, and Eddie scowled, shoving a finger into his ribs roughly. 

“Pa rum pum pum fucking pum.” He stretched, and Eddie winced as he lifted his hips, Richie slipping out of him. 

“I can’t believe I... fucking did that. _We are never doing that again_. What are you even— what does that even mean? _Pa rum pum rum_?” 

“It’s a song. You obviously never listen properly, do you?” Richie snickered, running a hand through Eddie’s hair and pulling him into a lazy, sloppy kiss. Eddie grumbled, nuzzling his face into Richie’s neck. “You really should start listening to Christmas music. I’m sure you’ll _really, really_ like it. Just how you’ll _really, really_ like Santa Claus. Hey, have you heard of the _mere exposure effect_? Some _fucking nerd_ told me about it—"

“Fuck off. _Seriously,_ fuck off.” Eddie grabbed the Santa hat right off his head, tossing it towards the Christmas tree. Richie just laughed, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s smaller frame. 

“I love you, Eddie Spaghetti.” He smiled into his forehead, and Eddie couldn’t help but grin. Even if he was wearing a Santa outfit, and even if he hated gingerbread, and even if he was dreading vacuum cleaning in the morning after all the tinsel was packed away again. He smiled, and he kissed Richie, which was way better than any Mall Santa could ever hope to be.

“I love you too, asshole.” 


End file.
